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Like every day of the week, I made my way to work. I had planned to skip lunch to save money, but as I walked into the office, I felt that I needed something to eat. The great part is that in southeastern Siloam Springs, there's only one good restaurant… Taquería El Rancho. Being only one-hundred metres from my place of work, I easily could have walked over and gotten lunch. Instead, like the hypocritical environmentalist that I am, I drove.

Just like any other time that I set foot inside the restaurant, I asked the owners of the place in Spanish how they were doing. She asked me how I was. I ordered my food. I got a discount. I tipped the cashier (like I always do when I get the discount). Then, I waited for my food.

While I was waiting, a woman came in through the doors. She immediately greeted me and asked me how I was doing. Despite the fact that I had no clue whatsoever who the hell this woman was, I basically chalked my way through the conversation and talked about how much the restaurant rocked (since we were both there, I could assume that we agreed on that).

I kind of think I know who it was, but I'm not quite sure. If it is who I think that it is, I'm really glad that I didn't ask. Otherwise, I'd be calling myself a schmuck. Of course, I'd do that anyway since I forgot who this woman was.